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New Zealand

Saturday, January 09, 2010

I've just got off a plane to the Cook Islands from New Zealand. The air hostess told us that we are going across the international date line. For those that are wondering its not some hotline to hook you singletons up with international chic's or even international chap's for you chic's.

No. Through some magic trickery conjured up by early British mariners I've arrived in the Cook Islands some 20 hours before I left. So tomorrow is actually today, groundhog day, and I'll get to relive January 5th 2010 again.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Some 20 odd years ago Douglas Adams and the eminent biologist Mark Cawardine had the idea to go and hunt down six of the most endanged species on earth and document their plight in a book called 'Last chance to See'. Sadly since this was filmed Douglas Adams past away. So did the Yangsi River Dolphin, something we will never have the last chance to see.

Which brings me to 2009: Stephen Fry, who happened to be a good friend of Douglas Adams, decided to team up with Mark Cawardine to go see what happened to the species that Mark and Douglas documented in their book. They shot a TV series called 'Last Chance to Meet', over six episodes, where they went to see the White Rhino, Aye Aye, Blue Whale, Kakapo, Amazon Manatee and the Kamodo Dragon.

Stewart Island Robin; Another endangered species

I downloaded 'Last Chance To Meet' while I was in the Philippines and watched this over the past few weeks. One particular animal caught my eye as being particular special. It was the Kakapo, a rather charismatic, fat and flightless parrot that once roamed New Zealand. These birds live to be over 100 years old and were so abundant on New Zealands South Island they were was popular as a pie filling and their feathers were used for decorating garments.

However the Kakapo has had the misfortune to have evolved without the need to reproduce like rabbits (the limit to the specifies expansion was only the availbility of food), who average only one egg every four years, when the NZ Rimu trees blossom. They also have no natural predators, so, when something threating comes along, like you or even a stoat, the parrot just sits there looking on with curiosity. Even worse Kakapo have a very distincitve smell ... you can smell one a mile off, well at least a stoat can.

And as many of you know Man arrived a few hundred years ago with Rats, Stoats and Possums. Its was then no small coincidence that Stoats took a liking to a belly full of Kakapo, being a hell of a lot easier to catch than the Rabbits they were brought in to control. Unfortunately the Kakapo did not have a few hundred thousand years to evolve the ability to breed like rabbits, fly away from predators (never mind just fighting or running away) or have body odour that can't be smelt a mile off.

A Weka ... Another of New Zealands flightless ground scavengers

The Kapapo population has since be decimated from hundreds of thousands of birds to just some 60 individuals. But through a stroke of luck the Kakapo had the fortune of being on the brink of extinction at just the right time. After a couple of disastrously public extinctions, the NZ government's Department of Conservation (DOC) had the fortune to find a small breeding population of Kakapo in one valley on Stewart Island after having just pioneered predator free islands. Over the space fo a few years DOC were able to transfer the remaining birds onto to Codfish island, a small Island off Stewart Island on the South of New Zealand. They have since started to thrive again and the population is growing slowly.

Oban, Stewart Island. Your not going to need much in the way of fuel here. Or even a Car mind you.

Which brings me to Stewart Island: We just spent the last three days tramping across stewart island (If you don't know what a tramp is, pay attention). Our aim was to see the Kiwi in the wild, except unlike every other person we met, we didn't have any luck. We heard lots of them mind you; several rummaging in the trackside bushes at night and plenty of kiwis calling at dusk. But I did get the pleasure of sitting on the Beach at Masons bay and looking over to Codfish island, the last stand of the Kakapo, and thinking ... one day we might all have a chance to meet a Kakapo in the wild.

Masons Bay with Codfish Island on Horizon, Left. The last stand of the Kakapo.

Its on this thought that I have to say goodbye to New Zealand. I am off to the Cook Islands and Sarah is off to Australia.

Update 7/1: One male Kakapo was hand raised and is now on Codfish Island. His name is Sirocco and he's a pretty friendly guy apparently. You can find him on facebook under Sirocco Kakapo.

Wednesday, January 06, 2010

One of the reasons we decided to head to New Zealand was to take on a few tramps. And I'm not talking about the bloke you see in the subway on the way to Tesco's with the left overs of a bottle of whiskey in is hand. I'm talking about some of the excellent hiking to be found in New Zealand, except here you don't go hiking, you go tramping. So after a few day tramps litter over the North and South Islands, we saved the best for last with a multi-day tramp on the Routeburn which is one of New Zealands great walks.

The Routeburn is pretty famous as tramps go, in fact its one of the most popular tramps in New Zealand, certainly amongst foreigners, meaning you've got about as much chance of getting a reservation in a hut as you have of meeting Billy Connelly. Thankfully we booked the huts well in advance, in september and even then we only managed to get a bed in our second choice of huts, meaning a long days tramping on our second day. Its popular for good reason, as it crosses the alpine divide between Fiordland and Queenstown, crossing over some of the most stunning Alpine scenery going. Its was a mouthwatering prospect and I had high hopes.

Start of the Routeburn

Our Journey to the start of the Routeburn in Fiordland was just as impressive as Milford Sound with scenery straight out of a video game. Note to self: must come back and experience this on a Motorbike (best pass my licence then). Our first day on the tramp however, turned out to be entirely different, when we got a sharp reminder that Fiordland is one of the wettest places on earth. Yes, It pissed it down. And ti was not just your average British drizzle, it was like having a bucket of water thrown over your head every minute. It was so wet that even a flood bypass around a waterfall was under a foot of water. After four hours of bucket drenching rain, we arrived in our first hut and spent the rest of the evening trying to dry ourselves and then our belongings. But it was worth it ... we were lucky to wake to a perfect blue sky day the following morning, leaving the best part of the walk to the best of weather.

Alpine Scenery on the RouteBurn

The tramp was every bit as spectacular as i was expecting. The scenery was straight from a New Zealand coffee table book, with jaw dropping scenery in every direction including some spectacular Alpine lakes with snow capped peaks as a perfect the backdrop. Three days later, we were back on the valley floor with Queenstown now only a short distance away. By then the climate had changed considerably; at the start of the tramp every crevice was spouting new ferns and trees while everything else, including mature trees was was covered in lichens and mosses. Arriving in the Glenorchy valley near Queenstown, we were in a scene more reminiscent of an African Savannah, with parched grass in every direction.

Arriving in Glenorchy

After a brief stop in the Pub, Sarah travelled onto Queenstown and I returned to pick up our car via the Caples track up the Caples valley. The Caples does not see the traffic that the Routeburn does and was an entirely different experience. Most of the time was spent dodging tree roots on a rugged track, while some sections involved wading waist deep in swampy mud. It was worth it though, as the Caples valley is an area where the Department of Conservation has been trapping stoats (a predator to the native New Zealand birds) for some time. You could really notice the difference in bird life with a cacophony of song at every moment.

I have to say that Tramping in New Zealand is a exceptional experience. There are thousands of Huts all over the national parks of New Zealand and you can stay in a hut for as little as NZ$5 a night. Thats exceptional value at £2 a night. Its a treasure the Kiwi's are or should be proud of. Oh and we just drove past Billy Connelly.

Monday, January 04, 2010

I once went to Milford Haven, a huge sound on the west coast of South Wales. I happened to be diving off a small island outside the sound and used Milford as a port to launch our RIB (Rigid Inflatable Boat). My impressions were of an horrendous port littered with giant tankers, huge jetties and numerous gas containers everywhere you looked. It just so happens that Milford Haven is one of the major oil and gas ports in the UK. I would not describe it as picturesque, in fact it was a truly awful place.

MIlford Haven, South Wales

Last week I was some 12,000 miles away in Milford Sound which is in Fiordland, New Zealand. I have to say it was the complete opposite of Milford Haven, a complete dichotomy. It is one of the beautiful landscapes I have encountered. In every direction there are sheer sided walls, topped with towering peaks all dressed with huge waterfalls tumbling down into the Fiord. It was incredible.

Sailing across Milford Sound

We decided to splash out and with the backing of a recommendation from Paul we went on an overnight stay-on-the-boat posho trip around the sound. It turns out to be the best money we have spent in New Zealand. Our boat rounded the sound a couple of times, got awfully close to some waterfalls and went out to sea where the Captain told us it was one of only two days in 2009 he had managed to get out to the Tasman sea. As it happens Fiordland gets some of the roughest weather in the world as well as one of the most amounts of rain, a whopping 7+ metres of rain annually. Thanks to the weather we got the privilege to anchor up for a few hours Kayaking in one of only two areas in New Zealand where Pounamu (a.k.a. as Greenstone or Jade) is found. I even got to go for a swim which has to be one of the dafter things I have done one my world trip; The water was verging on only a few degrees.

Sunset in the Tasman Sea

Milford Sound, as it turns out was overlooked by Capatin cook when he charted New Zealand in 1773 ... either he missed the entrance or was doubtful about whether he could escape the steep mountainsides, afraid that the wind conditions would prevent his boat from sailing away. The sound was only discovered when a welsh sailer sailed into the sound looking for refuge during a spot of bad weather, something that Fiordland is notorious for. It reminded him of home, Milford Haven. I find it hard to grasp the similarity to Milford Haven. Probably a good job that the Kiwis did not build any giant LPG ports in the sound.

As it turns out 'Milford Sound' is not a Sound and 'Milford Haven' is not a Fiord (Milford is derived from the viking 'Melr Fjordr' meaning Sand Fiord) . Milford Haven is a Sound and Milford Sound is Fiord. I hope your as confused as me now.

Friday, January 01, 2010

Following our trip to Golden Bay, we headed down to Kaikoura which is the whale watching capital of New Zealand. On the trip down, Sarah added to the conservation efforts of New Zealand, with a roadkill along the way. She managed to completely flatten a stoat, which would probably make any decent Kiwi proud. We arrived in Kaikoura a few hours later and once again my wallet had to part with another wedge of large denomination notes to join a whale watching trip the following morning. After a bit of searching we realised that there was monopoly, with only one operator in town. This is hardly a good example of letting market forces dictate the price (and a little frustrating for me) !

Sperm Whales Spouting

And I found out why; The Maori signed the treaty of Waitangi with the British, an agreement signed to bring peace with the colonisers in 1840 . As part of the treaty, the British gave the Maori's full rights to their possessions and properties, both collectively and personally. Unfortunately the Maori translation of the treaty contained a number of inaccuracies, including the word 'Tonga' which was used for 'possessions' but actually translates to 'Treasures' in Maori. This along with a number of other translation inaccuracies at the time has been a source as resentment to the Maori's for many years. Todays implementation of the treaty, erring with the Maori version, classifies Whales as a 'Tonga' ... after all the Maori's hunted whales a long time before the europeans arrived. All of this means that the Maori's have a monopoly over Whale watching in New Zealand. So we forked out NZ $145 each (GPB £70) for two hours on a boat, with some 50 other people. With a packed schedule (I counted some 24 odd trips that day), I would classify this enterprise as being a treasure. A bloody big cow made of cash.

Sperm Whale about to dive

A few days later, I heard on the radio that the Maori are have raised a claim with the NZ government that the airwaves are a 'Tonga'. The government is about to start licensing the 3G and 4G spectrum to the NZ telco's. The Maoris claim the right to ownership of (at least to some part of) the spectrum. I found this a little strange and very hard to imagine some chap wondering around South Island, a few hundred years ago, using his iPhone 3G to track the last of the Moa. To be fair, 'The Crown' (I.E. the British) blatantly abused or ignored the treaty, especially when the Maori refused to sell land. The Crown just took lands from the Maori which remains a source of massive friction today. Its a complicated problem which the NZ government is trying its best to untangle today.

Dusky Dolphin checking us out alongside the boat

Anyway, we hopped onto the Whale Watching tour at another unearthly start, this time at 7.15am. The boat was rather snazzy ... with plush seats, lookout stations, a sonar locator (to find whales), a 50 inch LCD screen with lot of info about the experience and some larger-than-life Maori bloke sitting up front giving commentary, who I'm sure was cracking the same old jokes every trip. I felt like we were on the bridge of the enterprise, although I didn't have the courage to ask Captain Jim if his surname was Kirk.

Captain Jim using a sonar locator on the Enterprise

Ten minutes out to sea and the poor chap next to me turned a pale shade of white. Then vomited. Then vomited again. His girlfriend was awfully apologetic as she kept a production line of brown paper bags flowing towards her not so pleasant smelling (and now not so pleasant looking) boyfriend. We were glad that Capt'n Jim and his helper Scotty spotted the first whale a short while after so we could take in some fresh vomit-free air. Three sperm whales, a large pod of Dusky Dolphins and a wandering Albatross later, we were back at port. As it happens, it was the last boat of the day as the wind notched up a few knots.

Dusky Dolphin and her Calf

The larger than life Maori bloke went on to explain that the Sperm whales are called 'Sperm' whales after a one was caught and its head was cut open ... they found a large amount of white liquid in the whales head. And they thought it was sperm!? I'm not really an expert in most animals on earth, by could anyone point out a mammal, let along creature of the sea, that has its balls located in its head ? And I am not talking about the Chav's hanging around your local shopping precinct. The 'white liquid' turns out to be wax, which is manipulated by the whale in order to dive, solidifying the wax to dive and melting to surface. As it happens the wax is also used to amplify their sonar. And the whales' nearest living relative is probably the hippo ? (or at least they had a common ancestor) And Dolphins are a type of whale ? Another fascinating result of evolution.

We have just arrived on Stewart Island which is a bird lovers paradise. It was a traumatic crossing and I don't know why but my jeans now smell of puke. As you've probably guessed I'm a blog or two behind. You can blame New Zealand.

Thursday, December 31, 2009

When I go mountain biking in the UK it normally results in a few hours of huffing and puffing up some never ending hill. By the time I have get to the top I'm ready to barf up my lungs, quickly followed by my stomach. That is, unless its a circuit around Reading (UK) when most of the time is spent in the pub with the rest of the time trailing Mr Fellows and Mr Rummage who are usually peddling effortlessly in the distance ahead.

So having arrived in Queenstown, arguably the adventure capital of the world, I decided to try a spot of Heli-biking with a lovely but rather wallet trembling shop called Vertigo Bikes. I parted with a small fortune and was told to turn up at some unearthly hour the following morning. I hadn't been mountain biking for a while and the last time I was in a helicopter was in, errrrr, somewhat different circumstances. It was a helicopter courtesy of the Italian government, which I should add, was very kind of them. However, with a broken ankle, dislocated shoulder and enough blood to keep accident and emergency going for a few days, I didn't get any panoramic views.

We had some Panoramic Views this time

So at 8am the following morning I turned up at Vertigo Bikes, somewhat bleary eyed, but feeling quite positive despite a rather nasty chill to the air. I was told that the wind had changed direction during the night to blow in south westerlies and apparently the only thing in the south west, apart from a lot of sea, is Antarctica. But with only a dusting of snow during the night I was told we were good to go and then promptly shoved into a bus which was off to the heliport.

30 minutes later we arrived on the summit of Ben Crucian, some 1500 metres higher than where we started. I hopped out of the helicopter only to be greeted with the shock of sub zero temperatures and serious wind chill. The chill was made somewhat worse by the unfortunate event of losing my beanie the day before in a 120mph gust. That is, a 120 mph gust experienced while tumbling down the Nevis gorge, thankfully attached to a rope and paying NZ$170 for the privilege. Maybe I should have left the beanie at home then.

Wintery welcome

The next two hours involved some seriously exhilarating singletrack. Well it was exhilarating after we got beneath the snow line, before which the priority was to avoid going head over heels though each snow drift. And this was the middle of summer ? The route finished with some seriously cool downhill which resulted in a last minute change to my new years resolutions:

Buy a full suspension bike.

Go biking Downhill more often, and if you can afford it, hell, take a helicopter!

And ditch the SPD's ... you can go faster round the bends with a foot down ...

We finished with a FergBurger and a pint of beer. Except in new Zealand beer comes served in 'handles' which is considerably less than a pint and costs considerably more.

On the way down

Finally ... Happy New Year to you all. Its a strange feeling spending New Year in New Zealand. Its the first major country to see in the new year. By the time India (that means you Jon) sees in new year I'll be sleeping off my hangover. By the time London hits the new year I'll be digesting my New Years Day lunch and on a flight to Stewart Island. And by the time San Francisco hits new year I'll be tucked into bed for an early night after the previous evenings indulgences.

If you have been paying attention, you'll probably know by now that we are off to Stewart Island tomorrow. The plan is to try and see some of New Zealand's native birds in the wild, with the Kiwi being top of the list.

Friday, December 25, 2009

In the past three weeks, I've become accustomed to the relaxed, easy going attitude of the Kiwi's. People say hello to you, no matter where you go including central Auckland. Its not unusual to exchange a few words when you're at the checkout where-ever you happen to be shopping. But best of all, many Kiwi's seem to be able to do this in nothing but bare feet. Yes, you see them hanging ten not only in places like the beach. You'll find barefoot clad kiwi's in the supermarket. The Gas station. The street. Riding a bike and, my favorite, the butchers. Its completely normal here and I am not sure why; Is it 'I a Kiwi, I can handle anything, including sore feet' or 'shoes are for Aussies' or 'I want to be closer to nature' or 'I can't be arsed to wear shoes' or 'hey look, I don't wear shoes aren't I cool' or 'I'm an eco warrior, no cows were killed for my feet' or finally 'I'm broke and shoeless'. Whatever it may be the Kiwis love to trudge around in their bare feet... and you may even see the odd kiwi in Jandals. Go figure that out.

In New Zealand Penguins get feet, but people don't!

Its quite a contrast to the countries I've traveled to in Asia, where shoes are of prime importance, and to be barefoot would be a shameful experience. In South Africa, shoes come as the most important status symbol purchase of your wardrobe. I once met a bouncer in South Africa, he told me that the one way you can tell if a client is 'made of the right stuff', is to take a look at his shoes.

My shoeless highlight has to be a few days ago when we were in Wellington. As it turned out it was the evening of the premiere of "The Lovely Bones", one of Peter Jacksons latest creations which was confirmed when we saw Dennis Pennis walking down the street. Later that evening, one of New Zealand's Oscar winners, Susan Sarandon, walked onto the red carpet in bare feet. Conclusion; People, bare feet are in this year.

Logan, One of Shambala's likeminded travellers.

A few days later, Sarah and stumbled across 'Shambala', which, after nine months traveling is one of the most unique 'hostels' we have come across. Its kind of a hippie retreat which is run entirely 'green'. Electricity is provided from Solar panels. Hot water is provided from a Solar heater. Water is collected from rainwater runoff. A Wood fired boiler heats the house and there is a wood fired oven for cooking (and gas hobs now, as the owner crumpled under the time demands of travelers). The best part of the place was the type of traveler that it attracts. You wont find the 18-year-old-gap-year-adrenaline-pack here. You come here for a reason and need some persistence to find the place. We really liked our stay and as a result got stuck here. Its a great concept, unless you live in China and find you rainwater polluted with whatever the nearest heavy industry is pumping out. I guess it would not be such a great concept there.

As we drove to Shambala, we passed Pupu springs, which given the name sounded a bit shite. After turning off the road, on closer inspection its actually Te Waikoropupu Springs. These are the largest freshwater springs in the southern hemisphere apparently. I dribbled with anticipation over the Cave diving potential, but later found out that it a sacred Maori site meaning there is no chance of any such opportunity. That said, even in the dry(er) season it pumps out so much water, in a marble maze of passages, that any attempt to go diving will end up in like a Champagne bottle cork ... hitting the ceiling.

PooPoo Springs

While at Shambala we went for a walk on part of the Heaphy track, which is one of New Zealand's great walks. The Heaphy partially follows the north west coastline of the south Island where there are no roads. Its a 78 km walk which, for part of the way, follows a track made by prospectors ... prospecting in the jungle for a route for a road. Yet for some reason the New Zealand government never made a road, instead establishing this part of New Zealand as a wilderness area. It means that the track never attains more that a 6% incline, which makes for a rather pleasant days walking, especially if you have a 1000 metres to ascend.

Logan, Tim and Baz taking a break on the Heaphy tack. Fellow travellers from Shambala.

Enjoy your boxing day all. For Christmas we cooked a roast, as we had the luxury of a cooker ... we decided to stay in a rather posh apartment type place. I roasted a Hogart Joint. If anyone know what a Hogart joint is.. I'd be intrigued to that I'm not the only one who didn't. For those of you who don't, the answer will be in my next blog.

We are off on the Routeburn track this morning for three days of tramping. It should be good, however there is a heavy rain warning in the area. Ouch.

While we were in Hawkes bay visiting Beermonster and Soffi, we went on a wine tour with Vince's Wine tours. Except it was not Vince, but a bloke called Ian. Never-the-less Ian knew his wines, where to find them and best of all the ability to get us home no matter how many wines we sample. It soon became apparent that no matter where you looked there was a winery, at every junction it was impossible to go wrong, no many how many bottles you have drunk...

This is one junction where you can't go wrong, no many how many bottles you have drunk this Christmas...

Hakwes Bay has become famous because of the wines produced on the Gimblett Gravels. This is an old riverbed which has lots in the way of gravels and not much in the way of fertile soil. Apparently this is great for making good red wines as the vine is starved, panics and figures it better reproduce quickly to ensure survival of the species. This means it produces lots of juicy berries aka grapes. Apparently within twenty years, an acre of land on the Gimblett Gravels has shot up from $800 a acre to around $400,000 an acre. It must have some pretty good wines going for it then. We visited five wineries and tasted around 30 something different wines. The wines seemed to get better as the afternoon wore on. Strange that. We bought several bottles for Christmas and New Year, at rather discounted prices and let Ian deposit us back at Beermonsters house. A rather fine afternoon out.

Speaking of the Christmas festivites, while in Golden Bay we came accross the most excellent Mussel Inn in Onekaka. This is pub with micro brewery attached, one of only a few in New Zealand. I got rather addicted to Manuka Beer which is brewed with the leaves of the Manuka Tree, at tree native to New Zealand. Rather different and I quite like it.

Flowering Manuka Tree's in Abel Tasman National Park

What really impressed me though, was finding Manuka Beer from the Mussel Inn in the local 'First Choice' supermarket. This is one of New Zealand's equivalents to Tesco's. What more, other than a selection of the Mussel Inn's finest you'll find local apple juice, local fruit, local cheeses, local milk and much more. And 'local' does not means Devon's finest cream stocked in a London branch of Tesco's. No, its really local produce ... kind of like wild Blackberries (growing along the A4) being stocked in the Ealing's Tesco's (which overlooks the A4).

It was good to visit Beermonster and Soffi. We had the chance to get off the tourist trail and do some proper Kiwi stuff like 4x4'ing down the beach and tramping (hiking) in places where you won't find many tourists (myself excepted). Thanks to tide times we had a rather swift trip along the beach, putting the 4 wheel drive to good use and then spending a few hours combing the beach to see what we could find. The best action was saved for the end of the day when Beerys truck had to deal with a fallen tree blocking the road. Beery whipped out his tow rope, dragged the tree to one side of the road and we all travelled on our merry way, along with a few motorists that has joined the 'waiting for the tree to be moved' queue. This is New Zealand, a no-nonsense, get things done kinda of place.

On the Beach with Beery and Soffi

We also visited the largest mainland Gannet colony in the world, at Cape Kidnappers. Cape Kidnappers takes its name after Captain Cook landed here. The local Maoris kidnapped Captain Cook's Tahitian translators as they thought they were Maoris who Cook himself had kidnapped. This like many bays in New Zealand bears the name given by Captain Cook who charted most of New Zealand on his first voyage here. The Gannets at Cape Kidnappers are another of evolutions 'we are not scared of you' creations. They had no natural predators while breeding on the New Zealand mainland. That is before man introduced the Stoat, Feral Cat and Ferret. Thankfully the family who own the farm surrounding the colony have turned the area into a nature reserve, eradicated all the predators and erected a predator free fence. To fund this they have built a world class golf course and charge punters like me to go and visit the Gannets. As the birds are oblivious to the fact that man (or Mammals) might pose a threat, you can get rather close. We were lucky enough to see the first chick that had hatched for the season.

Gannet on the take off

This year we having Christmas in the sun. New Zealand is also some 13 hours in ahead of 'home' and a nearly a whole day ahead of the US. I've just spawned jealousy in my nice's eyes as she grasped the concept that its Christmas day here, Christmas eve in London and I've opened my presents before she has. She has to wait and I'll be tucking into some late night cheese and biscuits just has she is opening her presents. Merry Christmas Kiah.

And a final note to you all; Merry Christmas. I'll leave you all with a picture of the Pohutukawa Tree aka "The New Zealand Christmas tree".

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Since emigrating to the UK, from South Africa, some 20 odd years ago, I have started to like British winters. Mostly they are mild but you get the odd cold snap ... like when you get the chance to feel special about a perfect blanket of snow. Or a brisk walk to the bus stop on a frosty morning, when you can play mind games with how far you can blow your breath in the icy wind. Or the nice n' crunchy feeling as you walk along a perfect frost in the morning.

Which is just as well...

It provides the high that you need for the guaranteed Chaos that is about to ensue. Like getting stuck in the channel tunnel. Or not getting home from work. Or getting your car encrusted in grit and dirt. Or getting stuck on the M25 for eight hours. Or opting for a sunday lunch instead of a day on the Mountain Bike. Or having to defrost the path to the house, the house that you have just spent a fortune heating.

So this year I'm 12,000 miles away in New Zealand. Its summer here and its rather nice. Idilic really, in fact just as Idilic as the picture that Dad sent me of the family Garden in Crawley (UK) from last night:

So my Epiphany... winters have lost their charm. I like summer. Winter can stay at home, some 12,000 miles away. Here is my Idilic shot from about the same time yesterday, in Abel Tasman National Park (NZ):

I have a nagging thought though... spending Christmas in the Sun ? It just does not feel right after 20 years of having adjusted to winters ... I'd swap it for the holy grail of a white Christmas any-day. But then again, that means winters...

Update, 9am 21st December 09: My brother just sent me this picture. Its my Car which he is looking after in Northern Ireland. I suspect i'll have to wash the grime and gitt off when I'm back next month ? In the mean time I'll just have to trudge along to another perfect blue Sky day in NZ, although there is a fresh dusting of snow on the mountain tops today... but they're over 2500 meters high ... and that requires intent and effort!

Saturday, December 19, 2009

When I came to New Zealand, Karen a friend who I met in the Philippines, asked me to send her a picture of a New Zealand spotted milking cow. It says a lot about the stereotypes that New Zealand portrays to the world. Not surprising really as there are some 20 million sheep here (and only 4 million people) and an awful lot of cattle, both of which contribute to the largest industry in New Zealand and the number one export. So in a tribute to Karen here are some certified New Zealand "baka at tupa":

A Baka (Think Anchor butter) ..... and ..... Tupa (Think Lamb Chops)

But New Zealand was not always like this. Prior to the arrival of Humans, the only mammals found in New Zealand were a few species of bats. Then Man started to arrive ... first the Māori's who arrived from the Polynesian islands such as Tahiti, some 600 years ago, who brought along Rats, Mice and Dogs. Then the europeans arrived ... spearheaded by the British, who introduced a whole host of mammals to New Zealand. Some were brought here by accident (Rats, Insects); Some for Food (Rabbits); Some to make money (Possums); Some as pets (Feral Cats); Some to control the Insects, Rabbits and Possums who promptly bred out of control without predators (Sparrows, Stoats, Ferrets, Weasels). Then there was a host of flora which arrived, a lot of which was introduced to "mimic" the natural British landscape ... think heather and Scottish thistle. And Finally the European settlers went about burning the natural landscape to make ways for farms. The impact of all of this, not surprisingly, was the decimation of New Zealand's ecosystem.

The genus that has suffered the most was the one that made the most out of the lack of mammals ... Birds. Birds evolved to fill almost every ecological niche in New Zealand, the most famous of which is the Kiwi who became the ground scavengers of new zealand filling the niche that small land mammals fill in Europe such as anteaters and hedgehogs. Consequently, Kiwi's are more characteristic of small mammals than of birds: They have a well developed sense of smell and hearing, a face covered with whiskers, shaggy, hair-like plumage and a body temperature of 37°C. And they have evolved in a world without predators, so that have no inbuilt defence mechanisms against the likes of Stoats, Feral cats and weasels. Most of New Zealand's native birds are now endangered.

Not many Kiwi's left to run over...

Thankfully, not all is lost. I have to say that I am seriously impressed with the conservation efforts that are underway here. There is now a plethora of national parks and reserves, all managed to promotes NZ's native habitats. The Department of Conservation is deadly serious about controlling the predators that are decimating New Zealand's birds. The latest measure that they are undertaking is dropping poison (Sodium Fluroacetate aka 1080) from helicopters into the national parks to control the mammal population, mainly Possums, Stoats, Weasels and Ferrets. In many areas there are teams of people, mostly volunteers, spending large amounts of thier time setting and laying traps for predators. The finest conservation policy of them all has to be the establishment of predator free islands where the Native bird species of New Zealand can be relocated and survive without threats. They have since started establishing predator free oasis's in areas of the main land, thanks to the use of predator proof fences, one which they can't get over, through or under.

My favourite part of New Zealand's wonderful place in mammal-less evolutionary world has to be Wētā's. Theses little critters are insects that have evolved to fill niches occupied by mice and other rodents elsewhere in the world. And they look rather cool, with some of them the size of your hand.

A Bush Weta on the Heaphy Track. About 4" or 10 cm long.

I rather like them and many of New Zealand's natural parks have Wētā hotels along their trails ... wooden boxes where Wētā's like to hide allowing tourists too have a peek. We took a walk on an alpine medow while crossing Lewis's pass earlier today and came across a signpost with info on the Mountain Stone Wētā. I found out that the mountain stone Wētā's can survive being frozen for months in a state of suspended animation with temperatures down to -10°C. Apparently this is because their haemolymph (the insect equivalent of blood) contains special proteins that prevent ice from forming in their cells. This has to be another one of Evolutions finest creations. But, rest assured, they are in safe hands in New Zealand. The Kiwis now lead the way when it comes to conservation of their natural habitat. This, I am sure of.